Text: a child's garden of toadstools
"a child's garden of toadstools" is the the thirteenth article to appear during the 1958-59 school year in the University of Notre Dame Scholastic humor column, "Escape". * By Charles Bowen: Scholastic, Vol. 100, No. 13 - February 13, 1959. Text I have been requested (entreated might come closer) not to present anything of a highly intellectual nature so soon after the midyear debacle. This comes as something of a disappointment, since I had prepared a complete critique of the cosmos for this week, but perhaps it belongs on some subsequent Back Page anyway. There are plenty of small but important items that come sailing onto my desk every week, only to settle fatly into the slime along with the ashtrays, banjo picks, and volumes of Henry James. I have pulled a few out and scraped them off, and with my apologies for the lack of organization, here they are: The public is invited to the South Bend Airport next Thursday to witness the departure of Brother Sententious for the foreign missions. The occasion promises to be more than ordinarily interesting, because Brother Sententious has absolutely no intention of going. He claims he is being railroaded because he kept playing Billy Graham records over the loudspeaker in the Bookstore. * * * At the height of last month's snowstorm, a half-frozen man was found wandering around the shores of Lake Marian. He claimed, to the astonishment of one and all, to be Capt. Sir Robert Huddleston-Fewkes, K.C.B., of the Royal Navy. According to Sir Robert, he was in command of the British atomic submarine, H.M.S. Unspeakable, and couldn't remember a thing since setting out from Baffin Land in the general direction of the polar ice cap. He is now in the Infirmary, under treatment with monkey vaccine, and would like it awfully if some student who is fond of Darwin would come in and read to him afternoons. * * * Hilarity was the order of the day as senior engineers gathered for tea last Friday. Duane Runcible gave a report on "How to Convert Your Slide Rule Into a Doorstop," and members of the faculty, with many a lighthearted jest, distributed copies of "You and Your National Guard." * * * I have been asked by the Senate Commission for Levelheadedness and Right Thinking to publish an official denial of a rumor that has been spreading perniciously during the last few weeks. No matter what anybody says, when the holy water in the vestibule of Sacred Heart Church freezes solid, knocking on it three times is not a guarantee of seven years' good luck. * * * (The following is excerpted from the record review section of Hawg & Hominy, The Hillbillys' Home 'Companion. I wonder if it looks familiar to you, too, or is it just my imagination?) "AH SHOULDA KNEW HIT WAS OVER WHEN YEW FLANG ME DOWN THE WELL," by Otey Gaptooth and the Skonk Skinners - At last I have found a steel guitarist who is both a musician and a technician. (Otey is employed part-time at the Pellagra Point Garage.) This smacks of a Utopia, a Paradise, a phagocytic exudite! I wondered when they were going to wise up. I said as much to Hank Williams when I met him in Chattanooga the other day. He had lost a little weight, and was slightly green in the face, but aside from his knee breeches he was Hank Williams all right. I defy time, space, heaven, and earth to contradict me! Otey's ElectroTone drizzles obligato magnificently. I don't expect anyone else to have attained this profound insight, so I am quite prepared for your puny disagreement. Hah! I sneer! En Garde! Swoosh! Snick-snick! Too quick for you, eh? Perhaps you didn't realize you were dealing with the greatest swordsman in all France! Poor fools! As far as I am concerned, you are autonomously, or unanimously, or something ending in -mously, a bunch of - of - Oh, where is that Roget? - a bunch of deciduous bituminates." (There follow several paragraphs of highly significant punctuation marks.) * * * Those who missed the Library's exciting display on the history of dandruff last fall will be delighted to know that it is being repeated as part of a series which will include The Chilblain Story, The Saga of the Hangnail, and the Acneid. * * * Miss Desiree Fulp, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Nimrod Fulp of West Warburton, Ohio, was seriously injured last Friday night after leaving the Mardi Gras when she sat down without remembering to remove the champagne glasses she had smuggled out of the dance in her hoopskirt. The members of the refreshment committee, who had to pay 50¢ each for the glasses, expressed disappointment that they could not have witnessed the incident. * * * Quote of the week: (An anonymous professor in the College of Commerce) "I never flunk graduating seniors - if I flunk 'em, they don't graduate." * * * Speaking of seniors, our informant in the Placement office asks me to assure my classmates that reports about the scarcity of jobs are greatly exaggerated. Openings for scientists and engineers exist all over the country, from Fraser, Col., to New Carlisle, Ind., and Caribou, Me. Nor are AB students neglected, in spite of reports. The Acme Door-to-Door Sales Co. (Slogan: Our frontier is the American threshold, also Salary is a Fool's Paradise) is interviewing philosophy majors right now. There are even some jobs that haven't been applied for. Puce County, Ark., has been in the market for a migratory bird commissioner for a month now with no takers. * * * It was announced today that the complete works of Simeon Prawl have been placed on the Index. This came as a surprise to Ignatius Sweeney, president of the Simeon Prawl Club, and he has suspended meetings until somebody figures something out. There is talk of replacing the old group with a new one dedicated to the study and discussion of A. J. Cronin. * * * Joanie O'Bryan has given me a quarter to say something about her in this column. Since she is the first to make this gesture, it occurred to me that I ought to say something nice. I have been thinking about it all day and have asked everyone I know. If anybody has anything nice to say about Joanie O'Bryan, will they contact this column immediately? a